Salutations!
How have you been? I’ve been well, Mizar and I took part in a proving match in Hundlestone, they do those every month there. Something something honour and glory. I don’t much care for honour and glory, but it was exciting, as was the celebration after. We won against a team who called themselves the Dusty Brothers, a mighty dwarven team of identical fellows. Or at least to me they seemed identical, and entirely too strong.
Tell mother that I am well, but perhaps leave out the bits about the celebration. Or at least … follow my advice and don’t taste any of the lichen malts they brew there, they’re as toxic as they come. Thank you for your last letter, it has reached me, and Harkins was kind enough to save the caramels you sent with the package so this time I didn’t miss those little treats . I shan’t stay at Hundelstone for much longer, our next plan is to find a caravan to take us up the Ten-Trail and beyond the Spine of the World, as rumour has it that something is brewing there, up where the eye can’t see. I’ve seen a few caravans head up already, with a lot more magical folk than you’d think would be interested in small fishing towns. I doubt they’re going on a vacation, either.
I will try my best to contact you once I have arrived in Bryn Shander, but my letters shall be sparser once I’ve left the city, as Ten-Trails are not oft travelled, and I hear the folk up there don’t really go out of their way to help others.
On the fifth day of The Claw of Sunsets, 1488
May darkness never touch you,
your brother Alcor
Noonafters,
We finally arrived in Bryn Shander yesterday, and I already miss the sun, sister. I know we’re far up in the north, and it should be quite common for the sun to not rise at all during winter moons, but enough is enough. It is already Claw of Storms, that’s springtime! In my humblest opinion, the lack of light makes these people a little soft in the head. But that’s why we’re here! The Knights of Polaris are here to save the day once more! Don’t tell Alkaid I said that, you know he doesn’t like us getting boisterous. Says it’s as good as having piss for brains. I think you’d like the market here sister, they sell little sweet almonds that have been boiled in sugar and have this sweet, crispy layer to them and they absolutely melt in your mouth!
It took us more than a tenday to finally find a caravan going up the Trail, apparently the roads are getting more and more dangerous. They say wolves patrol close to the roads now, as they’re getting hungrier the more the winter drags on… Thankfully, securing a ride when you’re all decked out in Torm’s finery isn’t as hard as it could be. People tend to trust us, and for a good reason.
We arrived so late that we had to find lodgings from Faelfaril’s Inn. Tomorrow we’ll go asking about town, but I think they mentioned something about the Triad’s house being here as well, we just didn’t have time to find it yet. There should be plenty to do around here, even if it’s just mundane wolf hunts and the like. People get desperate in these trying times, and perhaps we can help the town a little with their problems.
Tell mother I said hi.
On the 19th day of Claw of Storms, 1488
My words are your thoughts, we are one,
your brother Alcor
Annie,
Do you remember that time in Neverwinter when it snowed heavily at the estate? I was so jealous of you that you and the rest of the family got to witness it, while I was stuck on that internship thing for the Marquis and his gardens. I still think we should have switched places that time, you would have thrived in the hothouses that the city-rich keep. I don’t know much, but maybe the City itself maintains some of them? Either way, I really did not appreciate the warmth enough then. I was mostly just sweating in my platemail like a little piglet.
Now? I’d give a lot just to go back to the warmed gardens of Neverwinter, even if it meant I had to work for another pompous marquis or other. There’s a temple here that reminds me of the gardens, actually - painted glass and all, and for some reason it also seems to be the only place that keeps sunlight - other than that, it is all gone. It is the strangest thing, really. The locals say it happens each year, and I can only thank the heavens that we’ve never lived quite this far up north to have the sun completely disappear. And for months at a time, too! I would go stir-crazy, I think. But now something more sinister is afoot, the sun has been missing far longer than it has ever before. The folk here speak of the Frostmaiden - I don’t know much about the deity, so I shan’t name her too much. I feel it brings ill will and perhaps ill-gotten attention from those whose attention you do not wish to attract.
The Furies of old, she’s one of them. Perhaps there’s discord between them, and now the Wrath of Winter has descended upon these sorry towns to suffer it. But I shan’t bore you with the details too much, I know you never were interested in the godly matters.
We’ve stayed here roughly a ten-day now, a little past that. It might be difficult for me to send letters, I feel like there’s very little commerce in and out of the city. If you seek me, I shall be staying at [this part of the letter looks smudged, like you can’t quite tell what the letters say.] We met a couple of Tyr’s followers who have been taking care of the House, but now that we’ve arrived, they departed to follow their friends. We’ll have to see who gets the short end of the stick and has to play house this time. I hope it isn’t me, or Mizar. Do you remember what happened the last time we were house-watching? He nearly burned down the whole lodging.
Alkaïd went to see his friend, I didn’t even know he’s from around here. I guess nothing much happens around here so it’s not something he talks about that often, this is like, prime country bumpkin territory. Tomorrow we’re all gonna go have drinks with him and his buddy, and just kind of wait and see if there’s anything for us to do.
Tell mother I said hi.
On the second day of The Melting, 1488
Keep your sword sharp,
your brother Alcor
To my Esteemed Sister,
Did you like that? Should I start all my letters like that, makes us seem far more important, right? Remember when Mrs Firsilks tried to give us a course on manners and etiquette… I nearly died of boredom. You were pretty good at that stuff though. Probably still are. How’s it going? It feels like we haven’t seen each other in a thousand years, I barely even remember your face anymore.You should travel more, see the world a little. I could take you to see the Glimmer Falls, and we could travel together to see more of the Sword Coast, or something. I think that would be fun.
We visited Termalaine, and Targos on the way. It’s not like Neverwinter here, instead of one big city, the place consists of smaller towns pretty close to one another, but each of them has their own speaker, and each of them kind of does things their own way. Did you know they import deepwine from Termalaine? I didn’t. Apparently the weather has played a part in why it’s so difficult to find these days in southern towns, since people just don’t really travel up here or from here anymore. Right now, we’re in Dougan’s Hole, the speaker requested us here to deal with a giant problem they have - quite literally. There’s a young, brash giant that lives in the woods nearby, and it’s gotten a little too bold for the comfort of the villagers. So, being bright young paladins that we are, we were asked to help the village. We’re setting out tomorrow. I can’t wait to be done with this place, first of all there’s nothing here. Barely a tavern, although the fella running it seems to be quite sweet. One of them cow folk. But the village itself is kind of strange, everyone’s very cagey and don’t seem to know the concept of hospitality. I guess that’s a result of … you know, living in the woods, and now with the everlasting winter upon them.. I can’t blame them.
Everyone’s really cagey, and the speaker said they had some druids visiting earlier. I don’t know if she’s telling the whole story, but something’s dodgy about them - the druids or the speaker, the druids and the speaker. She’s not telling us everything, but we’re here on a job to kill a giant, so that’s what I’m going to focus on.
Tell mother I said hi.
On the 10th of The time of flowers, 88
Your esteemed brother Alcor
Annie,
I told you how we were setting out to kill the giant, right? Garagai, Garagal, something along the lines. Well, we did. We also lost Megrez. It’s the first time we’ve lost one of our own, and it’s… tough. The ground is too frozen to dig, but we tried. We spent an entire day just digging in the forest, thankfully Phecda has his tricks, so we got at least some sort of a grave set out for him. We thought about burning the body, but apparently last month they sacrificed someone in Targos. Burned the poor woman alive, and for what? Asking for better weather? It’s a joke and a farce, and I’m ready to come home. And that’s saying a lot, considering everything.
I still think we should travel together.
We’re done with Dougan’s Hole - none of us want to spend another night in here, and if the folk were strange when we first arrived here, they’re downright hostile now. I think they want us gone even more than we want to leave. We were in the woods for a tenday, killed their bloody giant, and the thanks we get is getting shooed out of the village? At least we got paid, even though technically that’s against the rules of Penance. But a man’s gotta eat, right?
I hope you see the flowers bloom,
On 21st of The Time of flowers, 1488
Your brother Alcor
We meet again,
We’re back in Targos, one of the bigger fishing ports in the area. I don’t know if you’re getting my letters, but I haven’t received any from you in a while. It might be because we keep changing towns so often, so perhaps there will be more waiting for me back in Bryn Shander. I hope you’re well. By my counting, it should be mid-summer now, am I correct? And because I’m an incredibly interesting penpal, I shall write to you about the weather in Ten-Towns. It sucks. We got stuck in a blizzard when we left Bryn Shander, and lost our way on a road that should take you less than half a day to travel, if you’re wearing proper snowshoes. My nose got frost-bitten, it’s been red for a week now. Mizar got his tongue stuck on his own pauldron, because he’s an idiot.
Oh, that’s another thing about the hospitality of these towns - no one tells you your travelling between places gets a lot easier once you purchase some proper snowshoes. The locals just kind of laugh at your antics, and watch you struggle.
Either way, we’re back in Targos now. I don’t know how much I should tell you, in case these letters get intercepted, but the Debt of Dereliction kind of means that we really should look more into what’s happening here. We’re staying at the Luskan Arms for now - funny how they named it such, I doubt half of the folks from here have ever even visited the city. Do you remember that one summer when Mother took us to Luskan to see the big brigades and the sailing competition? You were like nine years old, and really excited about the sweetened ice they served there. Not that I was any better, the sweet treats were really good. I think I still have the charcoal drawing of the Queen’s Mercy somewhere in my room, the ship that won first place, remember? My Illuskan is shit these days, I barely remember the basics, but you were always the smarter of us. The innkeeper here is actually Luskan, hence the name. He’s also the poor sod who lost his wife to the Lottery, as they call it. They’ve taken a third one now, first it was poor old Hildegard Drake, and because apparently the Lottery doesn’t favour the rich, also those in charge have to draw names - the second one was actually the speaker, Fenwick Chaucer. I smell bullshit, as it took less than a moontide for the next speaker to step up, some fellow called Naerth Maxildanarr.
Apparently he’s well liked here, the Naerth guy. A popular, rich fellow, used to work in trade and import, keeping Targos in coin, as he says. Never trust a man who cares about coin more than he cares about his fellow people. I don’t like telling you only bad news, but it seems to be all I have left to tell. The third sacrifice to the goddess of the Everlasting Rime was someone named Fredrick Wheatflow, and I believe that’s when Mizar got us involved - he heard people were starting to suspect the new speaker of eliminating competition, as old Wheatflow was friends with the previous speaker. Either he spoke up against the new rule, or there’s something else happening, but what I can say it’s not normal.
I think it's safest if I don’t mention names from here on out, you’ll know it’s me. I don’t want to get you involved, in case my letters get intercepted.
On the 22nd of Summertide, 1488
I hope you got my last letter,
Your Brother
I hope you received my last letter,
I’m annoyed that we couldn’t save her, it feels as if we’re completely useless here. As followers of Torm, we should question unjust laws. But I don’t know, does human sacrifice in dire times fall under that jurisdiction? Perhaps I am merely blinded by my own faith, and ought to respect other religions more. But something feels off. It took us a few days to leave Targos, as they kept the gates locked throughout the whole ceremony. I wanted to rush in and save her, but again, my blade was stopped. Perhaps it is wiser to not get involved quite yet, when we don’t know enough about what’s going on behind the scenes.
Maxildanarr is a zhent, that I’m sure of. No way that man has pure intentions, not with that amount of insider trading and influence he holds over the trade business.
We’re back in Bryn Shander now, had to tell Alioth and Dubhe about Megrez… it still hurts, losing that bastard. He’s been with us for years now, and now every time there’s honey mead on the menu, we buy it to honour him. Man had the worst sweet tooth I’ve ever seen, and that includes you, my dear sister. We played Astan Arcana well into the night to decide who house sits this time around, and Dubhe - poor man, although secretly I think he’s happy, lost again. He’s staying behind with Merak. Fitting, really. They fight so well together, radiant stars et cetera.
We’ll be heading to Caer Dineval next, just to kind of look around. We’ve been here for months now and I still haven’t seen all of the towns, it’s time we fixed that. Phecda really wants to go, he’s been curious about the magical folk we saw in Hundlestone before we embarked on our journey. And we still haven’t met anyone particularly keen on arcanic knowledge, or anything of the sort. It’s not like they have a college here like in Waterdeep.
I’ve included some sugared almonds for you in the letter, I hope they don’t melt on the way. Or get eaten by the raven.
On the 20th of Highsun, 1488
Your brother A, most diligently
A,
I wish I was done with this leg of the journey already. Never come to Bryn Shander, never come to Ten-Towns in general. Just don’t, there’s nothing here. Not even the sun. It’s now my sixth month up here in Icewind Dale, and I’m up to my neck sick of the darkness. It’s cold, all the inns we stay at are draughty, we can’t even take proper hot baths here.
We actually went fishing at Lac Dinneshere, and caught some knucklehead trout, a local delicacy. That’s the most exciting thing happening here. Mizar nearly drowned when he had to wrestle the thing to get it up on the ice. And that’s the other thing - I’m sick and tired of eating fish, it’s so cold up here that there’s little else available.
Say, since you’re a nerd - no offence but you are - what do you know about like.. The Time of Troubles and the Spellplague? I think I slept in school when our teacher told us about these things. I know I know, I should have paid more attention, becoming a paladin and all, but learning from books was just never quite my forte. All I remember is that the tablets were destroyed, and that cast some of the gods down on our plane. And with all that chaos abound, Shar eventually managed to murder Mystra and tear the Weave asunder, and now we have to deal with the remnants of the Spellplague and - wait, you do know about all the stuff that I do, right? The Penance of Duty? I’ve told you about that, about how we as knights of the Polaris and you know, other knights from the order of the Gauntlet strive to correct those wild magic zones and restore the dead magic, all that jazz. That was never quite my thing, Phecda and Megrez always understood way more about it than I probably ever will. Call me predictable but I like those more .. .classic ways of helping, you know, going out and being all heroic, whatever that might entail. But it seems we’re on our way to hunt some
[this part of the letter is smudged, as if snow had gotten into the envelope and wet the parchment]
[Annie has received this letter on the 23rd of Eleint/The Fading, 1488 ]
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